Part 1 of 2
“STOP,” said my friend, “I see you do like cats, and I do not, so let the matter drop.”
“No,” said I, “not so. That is why I instituted this Cat Show; I wish every one to see how beautiful a well-cared-for cat is, and how docile, gentle, and — may I use the term? — cossetty. Come with me, my dear old friend, and see the first Cat Show.”
Inside the Crystal Palace stood my friend and I. There lay the cats in their different pens, reclining on crimson cushions, making no sound save now and then a homely purring, as from time to time they lapped the nice new milk provided for them. Yes, there they were, big cats, very big cats, middling-sized cats, and small cats, cats of all colours and markings, and beautiful pure white Persian cats; and as we passed down the front of the cages I saw that my friend became interested.
Part Two
PRESENTLY he said: “What a beauty this is! and here’s another!”
“And no doubt,” said I, “many of the cats you have seen before would be quite as beautiful if they were as well cared for, or at least cared for at all; generally they are driven about and ill-fed, and often ill-used, simply for the reason that they are cats, and for no other. Yet I feel a great pleasure in telling you the show would have been much larger were it not for the difficulty of inducing the owners to send their pets from home, though you see the great care that is taken of them.”
“Well, I had no idea there was such a variety of form, size, and colour,” said my friend, and departed.
A few months after, I called on him; he was at luncheon, with two cats on a chair beside him — pets I should say, from their appearance.